


Fanning the Flames

by fictorium, SupergaySupercat (octoplods)



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, F/F, Fire, Firefighters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-10-12 08:12:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10486230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium, https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoplods/pseuds/SupergaySupercat
Summary: Cat Grant, CEO of CatCo Worldwide Media, happens upon a poorly reported fire at Lord Tech. There she meets a gorgeous firefighter, one she continues to cross paths with.Fighting those fires? Kara Danvers. Another kind of Supergirl.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter will have art from the amazing @supergaysupercat!
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_And nobody gets out of it, having to_  
_swim through the fires to stay in_  
_this world._

**—Mary Oliver, “Dogfish”**

* * *

 

Cat fires her metro reporter from the car.

Of all the incompetent displays she’s seen in her time, that fumbling description of the fire at Lord Tech will go down in infamy. It wouldn’t take long to summon someone from another beat, an intern even. But having escaped a two-hour lunch on The Future of Media (in which the future seems to contain as many rich white men as the past and present) and with only a series of budget meetings to look forward to, Cat volunteers herself as a stand-in. Commands more than volunteers, but the head of her Metro desk has long since stopped arguing with her, which is a headache for another day.

The moment her driver pulls up to the curb she’s in motion, grabbing the waiting microphone and pulling the camera crew bodily to a more appropriate location, one where she can feel the heat of the leaping flames at her back, but upwind of the billowing smoke so the picture doesn’t take on that hazy quality.

She knows it’s partly her presence in the thick of it - CEOs don’t do local news broadcasts, or even national as this one will become - but Cat feels that old effervescence in her veins from the thrill of reporting live. Not sitting in a boardroom or running a red pen through careless prose, but talking directly to the people who may well be hanging on her every word.

They’re the last crew standing when the NCPD start to move the press and gawking crowd back. There’s a shout that the roof is coming down, and Cat tables a remark about the literal destruction of a glass ceiling. It won’t be appropriate until they know everyone is out safely, and there’s still chatter that the executive floor still has people trapped, including possibly Max himself.

The sergeant in charge of the scene is all but wrestling her away from the barrier when the group of firefighters emerge, bodily carrying Max and a few of this staff. A cheer goes up as that confirms the building to be fully evacuated. Cat turns to the camera, adjusting her earpiece and waiting for the cue to go live with that development.

“...confirmation from Police and Fire Department that there have been no casualties so far, and the injured are on their way to County Hospital for treatment. For CatCo News, this is Cat Grant.” She wraps up two minutes later.

“Move it lady,” comes the order from a different voice this time, and Cat barely has time to notice it isn’t the police officer berating her. A gaggle of firefighters are ushering her crew back behind the new line of barriers, 15 feet away.

“I have a duty to report the-”

“That roof is coming down,” the firefighter continues with her surprisingly feminine, almost girlish voice. She gets her body between Cat and the building and forcing her to take a few grudging steps back. “When it does you need to be further back to make sure you don’t get hit in the face with bits of burning building. I’d think someone as pretty as you would want to avoid that.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Cat concedes. She squints in the hope of seeing something behind that standard issue breathing mask, but there’s nothing beyond a hint of blue eyes. She takes up position behind the barrier but her new bodyguard doesn’t shift. “What? I’m doing as you asked.”

“And I assume you’re the type to sneak right back the minute I turn away, right?”

“Don’t you have a fire to put out, Officer… Danvers?” Cat sees the name on the uniform, visible despite the layers of soot and more than a few scorch marks.

“Reporters who stay behind the barrier can call me Kara,” she answers, pulling her mask down for a moment. “I’ve always been a big fan of your work, Miss Grant.”

“Kara, I-” But she’s off, mask back in place and joining the fray.

Cat could leave at this point, she certainly has a packed day waiting for her. Instead she holds on to her mic for appearances’ sake, but tells the crew to start wrapping it up. They’ll no doubt be relieved to be back in the van and away from the big boss. They’ve been professional and efficient, and Cat files away their names for commendation to their manager.

She fiddles with her phone for a few minutes, scanning the crowd as it thins, and checks Twitter to see how her surprise live coverage is going down. She’s a trending topic and three vaguely amusing hashtags, which isn’t bad for the first 15 minutes. With a gloating text fired off to Lois, Cat finally gets her reward.

“Hey,” Kara says, approaching as her walkie crackles into life. “10-15,” she barks into it. “All clear,” she adds in response to Cat’s quizzical look.

“Come to manhandle me some more?” Flirting isn’t exactly a stretch for Cat, at times it’s her primary method of communication, but rarely does she dive in with such enthusiasm.

“Well, let me lose a layer first,” Kara responds, and that easy smile is surprisingly appealing. If Cat were one to acknowledge such things, she might check to see if she’s having some kind of hot flash. “Sorry to get tough with you before, but public safety is the most important part of my job.”

At least that’s what Cat thinks she said, because her senses have gone a little haywire at the sight of Kara shrugging off her heavy uniform jacket, letting it drop at her feet. She yanks her helmet off and tucks it under one arm. One bare, muscular arm that’s glistening with the faint sheen of sweat, just the hint of soot despite the previous covering. Kara adjusts the helmet against her hip and her biceps flex in a move that almost takes Cat out at the knees.

Her mouth is dry, and it has nothing to do with the heat or the smoke hanging in the air.

“I don’t usually report from the scene,” Cat starts to explain.

“I know,” Kara shakes her hair out of its ponytail, handing her helmet over so she can tie it up again, tighter this time. Cat accepts the dirty yellow plastic without complaint, already craving the hand sanitizer that’s always stashed in the car. “I’ve missed you on TV since you stopped doing your show.”

“You watched my show?”

“In college. Way better than studying. Thanks,” Kara takes her helmet back, and Cat takes in the full effect again, the white tank top and lightly tanned skin, the way the suspenders of her uniform pants press enticingly over the subtle curve of Kara’s breasts. This is a show Cat suddenly has no desire to share, and she waves the crew off once and for all. To their credit, they manage not to break into a run. “Did you get everything you needed?”

“I… I’m going to have CatCo Magazine run a feature on female firefighters,” Cat decides, because it will serve Lena Dunham right to get bumped again for next month. “If I wanted to contact you…?”

She’s expecting a phone number, instead she gets a smile and a gentle eye roll. Perhaps not as subtle as she thought, then. Someone who looks like Kara must get this a lot, post-heroics. Adrenaline does strange things to a person.

“Have your researchers call Ladder 14,” is all she’ll give, collecting her jacket and jogging back to her buddies. “It was nice to meet you!” She calls back, and Cat just smirks at her, before heading back to her car that’s still illegally parked at the curb.

She’ll be making that call herself, and Kara Danvers is going to be a cover girl whether she likes it or not.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's pulled the fire alarm at CatCo Plaza. How... convenient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cat absolutely, definitely did not pull the fire alarm.

She might have been considering it for three weeks straight, but the impulse has been kept in check. Despite complete faith in herself and her self-control, it’s only when the Head of Security confirms the alarm was smashed on the sixth floor that Cat heaves a sigh of relief. It’s ridiculous to feel any kind of guilt, but she hasn’t summoned the fire crews to CatCo Plaza with the sheer power of her fantasies. 

Usually when these tedious drills are organized, she escapes in her private elevator despite instructions not to use it, and waits it out in the car. Only during the last rash of bomb threats did Cat ever stick religiously to the evacuation procedures, healthy fear winning out over the desire not to be inconvenienced.

Today she hangs back, stuck on a conference call with two international division heads and a political crisis that’s putting her field journalists at risk. Even when they report in languages Cat doesn’t speak, Cat knows their faces and most of their names, responsible for her people wherever they are in the world. 

The first fire crew arrives after a decent interval, motioning for her to leave. She mutes her conference.

“Is there actually a fire?”

“Ma’am, you have to evacuate,” the first firefighter tells her. Tall, dark and handsome. Impressive, but not enough to sway Cat from her current object of desire. 

“Never call me ma’am,” Cat snaps, as though she’ll ever see these people again. “This isn’t the Old West.”

“Come on,” the shorter firefighter urges. “We need everyone evacuated, that’s procedure.”

“I own this building,” Cat points out. “Unless you can show me smoke, gentlemen, I’m staying put. I’m dealing with people whose lives are actually in danger. Go, check some stairwells or whatever you have to do to tick all the boxes.”

“Chief won’t like this,” the shorter one grumbles, but they retreat across the empty floor.

Five minutes later the stairwell door creaks open again. Cat fires an instant message to her assistant’s empty desk to have maintenance oil those hinges before lunch, or the whole department is fired. Along with the assistant herself. 

Cat ends her call, relieved that the Red Cross and private security are finally working to help her staff. It’ll be on her mind for the rest of the day, until every last journalist and crew member is accounted for, but she’s done as much leading as she can.

“Imagine my surprise,” says a familiar voice. No breathing equipment this time, but helmet still in place. “When I hear that a woman who runs a whole company isn’t smart enough to comply with fire regulations. Cat Grant, my buddies tell me, won’t evacuate. And I said to them, that can’t be true. I’ve met her, and she doesn’t seem like an idiot. Guess you never can tell.”

“Are you calling me an idiot?” 

Kara stares her down. “You’re supposed to be down in the Plaza with everyone else.”

“You’re a little bold, has anyone ever told you that?” Cat asks, grabbing her purse and coming out from behind her desk. “Brazen, actually.”

“When it comes to saving people, yeah,” Kara tells her. “I suppose I am.”

“Is my building on fire?”

“We can’t say for sure yet,” Kara holds firm. “So can you please leave? Because I don’t want to have to carry you out of here, but believe me, I will.”

Cat’s knees tremble at that. Whether the thrill of defiance or the prospect of those muscles flexing to throw her into a fireman’s carry over broad shoulders. God. It’s hot enough in here that there really could be a fire, all of a sudden.

“Your uniform would get my clothes dirty,” Cat points out, almost as a defence against her own baser instincts. “This is Elie Saab, and in case you haven’t noticed, it’s white.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Kara blurts, and there’s a hint of a blush there. Not so stoic after all. “So will you please come downstairs? We can use the fire-safe elevator, even. Those shoes don’t look like 40 floors of stairs would be a good idea.”

Which means Kara is staring at her legs, Cat realizes. Far longer than it takes to glance at her wildly impractical 4-inch heels. 

“Fine. But only because I’ve done everything I needed. Lead the way, officer.”

“It’s your building,” Kara points out, but once she sees Cat is in motion, the taller woman relaxes slightly. The elevator comes when Kara inserts a special key in the panel.

“Can I have one of those?” Cat asks. 

“That’s up to your building manager.” Kara steps inside and waits for Cat to follow. There’s an almost childish impulse to run, Cat is ashamed to say. Just to see if she’ll be caught.

“We really should stop meeting like this, Keira,” she tries once the elevator is in motion. “Although it gives me a chance to nail down this photoshoot you promised me.”

“It’s Kara,” she points out, yanking her helmet off again, some strands of hair loose from the sloppy bun she’s gone with today. “And you really don’t give up, do you?”

“When I want something, I tend to get it.” Cat’s statement has the benefit of being mostly true, and the building they’re exiting them is proof of that. “You haven’t been returning my calls.”

“The firehouse doesn’t give us messages,” Kara explains, pushing through the front doors of the CatCo building and out into the midday sun. She turns to signal to someone on the huge fire truck 20 meters away, before taking a detour towards the stone benches that no one ever seems to sit on. Looking up at the building first, Kara sets her helmet on the ground with a deep bend, giving Cat a snapshot of an ass that’s high and pert even beneath fire-resistant clothing. “We get a lot of people who get… attached. Hero worship, my sister calls it.”

“Your sister sounds smart. Is she here?”

“Still in the stairwells.” Kara nods back towards the building. “I’m a little faster. You really own all this?”

“Well, I’m a corporation these days but yes, I suppose I do.” Cat preens just a little. She’ll never stop being proud of what she’s achieved. “I’ve come a long way since that talk show you watched.”

“It was nice seeing you again, Miss Grant,” Kara responds to a yell of ‘Danvers’ with a jerk of her head that serves as acknowledgment. “I suppose if you’re not going to give up, I should just cut out the middleman, huh?”

“Good idea,” Cat agrees. “Do you have a card?”

“I run into burning buildings for a living,” Kara points out, much to Cat’s embarrassment. “Paper isn’t something I really carry. You got a pen?”

Cat should point out that it would be easier to type a number directly into her phone, which she already has in hand. She could bark at Siobhan and get her over here to take notes, but this moment with a gorgeous hero is already slipping away, so Cat grasps her trusty Mont Blanc from the half-pocket of her blazer. Kara makes a face of appreciation at the craftmanship, before popping the lid and taking Cat’s slender wrist in a firm grasp.

Any other time Cat would recoil, be shrieking for hand sanitizer, but Kara’s hands are clean, if a little rough. No soot today, not yet, and when she adjusts her grip it’s almost like her thumb is caressing Cat’s skin in one of her most sensitive spots.

“Let’s stick to email,” Kara suggests, a hint of warning in those deep blue eyes that Cat keeps getting momentarily lost in. This girl has more walls than a Republican speech on immigration, and Cat can’t help being curious as to why. “I don’t keep regular hours.”

“The best stories are told in person anyway,” Cat counters. “But email is fine for making arrangements. I don’t keep regular hours either. If you’re ever at a loose end at 1am, look for a light on the 40th floor.”

“Nice of you to offer,” Kara says around a nervous laugh. Any questions are chased by the tickle of Cat’s own fountain pen against her skin. Kara has a practised hand, she uses the pen as an extension of her fingers, not some awkward implement. The handwriting is pleasingly neat too, but the soft scratching sensation is over far too soon.

“Thank you,” Cat says sincerely, wondering how many employees are currently losing their minds over what she’s doing. The never-touch-the-boss rule has been in place for as long as CatCo has been standing; they don’t realize it’s as much for their protection as Cat’s. She worked for too many bosses who thought touching anyone they like in the workplace was just one of the perks. “I’ll be in touch.”

“I bet you’ll send the first email before you’re even back at your desk,” Kara teases, tossing some loose strands of hair out of her face. It’s a little Sports Illustrated and Cat should be above reacting, but there’s no telling that to the throb of pure attraction between her thighs. Another shout of ‘Danvers’, irritated this time. “Gotta go.”

Cat offers a frivolous little wave, and despite the taunt opens her inbox on her phone before Kara is all the way out of sight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat decides to track down the subject of her photoshoot. And fantasies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> More art by the amazing @supergaysupercat

Three weeks, two days and twenty hours later, Cat still doesn’t have an answer to her email asking when she could book time with a photographer. Subsequent emails not mentioning a photoshoot have been answered, but every time the photoshoot topic arises, Kara Danvers develops a sudden allergy to typing.

So what if, along the way, Cat has learned any number of things about the beautiful, brave woman who occupies far too much real estate in her thoughts? That Kara loves old movies - she’d first confessed that while watching Auntie Mame on a Sunday afternoon. That on her days off she volunteers at an animal shelter, proven with ridiculous selfies that sparked Carter’s latest round of pleading for a puppy. 

It’s why, on a sunny Sunday afternoon, Cat finds herself letting her Porsche out of the garage and charting a course for the Ladder 14 firehouse, right in the heart of National City’s artsy downtown district. When she moved here from Metropolis, the area was nothing but run down factories and petty street criminals. She’d made the Trib into a national player by reporting on the decline of inner cities, starting with its own. 

The firehouse, like most of them, displays wide open doors beneath a waving set of stars and stripes. One rig is in evidence, being cleaned by a handful of firefighters who don’t seem to be taking it too seriously, mostly chatting and throwing a football around. They’re in shorts and department issue t-shirts, and Kara is not amongst them.

“Excuse me?” Cat waves to the nearest woman, her hair in a cropped dark bob. 

“Yeah?” She comes jogging over, wiry and tense with unexpended energy. Cat appreciate the intensity.

“I’m looking for Officer Danvers.”

“You got her.” She stares Cat down. “But you wanted the other one. You must be Cat Grant.”

“How could you possibly-”

“My sister told me some hot media lady was stalking her,” Alex replies with a withering stare. “I’m willing to bet this isn’t just about some photoshoot.” The accusatory glance at Cat’s stylish but short sundress finds its target. What else can Cat do but shrug it off?

“Is your sister working today? She said she had the early shift.”

“She did, huh? You see that door back there?” Cat nods. “Go through it without touching anything, and you’ll find Kara in the yard. Don’t make me regret letting a civilian in the station, now.”

“You won’t.” Cat strides across the concrete floor, aware of the looks she’s drawing. Maybe she could have left off the killer heels this one time, but how better to draw attention to her exposed calves and thighs? Hopefully the blushing firefighter will appreciate the effort. Stepping out into the brick-walled courtyard behind the station, Cat doesn’t see anything but an old-style fire truck, the ones that haven’t been on the road in at least a decade. Despite the age, the red paint is flawless and the chrome gleams. 

Suddenly Kara appears from behind it, a paintbrush stained red and a rag in her hands. Her uniform is gone, replaced with one of the department issue shirts the rest were wearing, only this has the sleeves cut off and the midriff tied, the better to show off glistening abs and toned biceps. Cat’s glad she already came to a halt, because she’d surely have been ass over teakettle at the sight.

“Working hard?” She asks, clearing her throat. “I wouldn’t think paint thinner and firefighters go well together.”

“My shift finished,” Kara explains. “Bessie here is my project. I do a little maintenance when I have time. Should I be glad you don’t have a Nikon around your neck?”

“I wish I did.”

Kara tilts her head, unsure how to take that. 

“Would you like the tour? I’m guessing everyone saw you come in, if they sent you back here.”

“Met the sister,” Cat confirms. “I usually wait until after a few dates for that kind of thing.”

There it is, that telltale blush again. Kara puts her paint supplies in some kind of locker and washes her hands under a handy outdoor tap. She takes her time about it too, quite happy to make Cat wait. Payback, no doubt, for the delay in evacuating the other week.

“I can’t really show you the firehouse, the Chief would put me on nights for a month. But out here is technically not department space, so you can come play on the fire truck if you like.”

“My son would appreciate that a little more,” Cat counters. She isn’t sure she sees the appeal until Kara’s clean, cool hand is at Cat’s elbow, steering her around the gleaming truck. Admittedly, it’s kind of impressive up close. “You did all the work on this?”

“She was pretty beat up when they towed her back here,” Kara admits. “My sister helps, James sometimes. Winn did all the electrics and put in a really sweet stereo for me instead of the radios. James and Winn are the guy who tried to get you out of your office before me, in case you were wondering.”

“They can be in the spread too, if you don’t want to focus on women. General bravery, the fact that you’re all barely twenty-five and look like supermodels, that’s enough to work with.” Cat looks up at the open door, hopes no climbing is expected in these damn heels. She can take the ground-level tour only. Past the cab doors are the equipment racks, and she runs her hand absently over a coiled hose. “I can speak to your Chief. With the budget going through the statehouse next month, some good publicity can only help.”

“Miss Grant-”

“Cat.”

“Cat, I wish you’d stop badgering me about that. I really don’t want my face in a magazine. I’m sure yours is quality, but that kind of life doesn’t interest me.”

“Why are you so intent on staying under the radar?” Cat persists. “Even the least vain person in the world would have folded by now, if for no other reason than to shut me up.”

“I’m not comfortable with extra attention.” Kara’s head drops, and she sighs. “I get to do my job well here, and my sister has my back but… when I told you before, that I’m faster than her?”

“Yes,” Cat’s sense for the story is tingling, hard. 

“I’m a little _more_ in other ways too. Kara reaches for the open door of the truck, metal and heavy and hanging above their heads. With one hand she bends it to a right angle. “Faster, stronger, don’t need to breathe as often. And I can put out anything up to a three-storey fire like this…”

She blows against the brick wall behind the truck, making it sparkle with frost. Cat gasps at the spectacle of it all.

“You’re an alien,” Cat surmises. “That’s why you’re so good at what you do. And you can’t get hurt like the others, am I right?”

“Some things can hurt me,” Kara admits. “Fire doesn’t happen to be one of them. Anyway, I understand if that changes your… pursuit of me. There’s a reason people like me don’t go shouting it from the rooftops.”

“Do I strike you as small-minded?”

“No.”

“Then assume it doesn’t change a thing. If anything,” Cat sighs, “It only adds to the appeal. Are we going to keep dancing around this?”

“Depends.” Kara steps closer to Cat, backing her up against the hose reel she’d just been fondling. “Are you here to see me? Or just to run your hands over the equipment?” 

“I’ll run my hands over anything you like.” It’s barely a murmur of response, but apparently all Kara needs to hear. She plants her hands either side of Cat’s head, flat against the truck, and flexes her biceps as she closes the little remaining distance between them. Cat’s expecting some tentative peck, some _is this okay_ kind of question in the way their lips meet, but it turns out Kara Danvers kisses with the same directness and skill with which she chases down fires.

Cat moans into the kiss, despite trying to keep some kind of composure. Kara’s lips are a little cool from her ice-breathing trick and it makes Cat tingle in ways she didn’t expect. Running her hands down the outside of Kara’s braced arms, tracing the sculpted muscles, Cat uses the leverage of Kara’s shoulders to pull her into a real embrace, their kiss only deepening and never breaking. 

“Jesus,” she sighs when Kara relents for a moment. “And I was worried you’d be too shy.”

“Only because everyone is, compared to you. Can I do that again?”

“I’ll be disappointed if you don’t.” This time Kara picks Cat up, letting her legs wrap around Kara’s waist. One of Cat’s heels falls off, but Kara gives a low growl of appreciation when the remaining point of the other shoe drags across her ass while Cat gets her balance. Kara moves them a little, a flatter surface behind Cat’s back, the metal panel warm against her heated skin. 

“We should-” Kara is trying to be sensible, but she’s distracted by ghosting the tip of her nose over Cat’s jawline, landing on her neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses that send shots of sensation through her like electricity. Her clit is throbbing, and she’s already wet between her parted thighs. Stopping - waiting - is no longer an option. 

“Here,” Cat gasps, making a point she isn’t sure Kara is even asking about. “Now.”

“Danvers!” Comes the shout, and Cat almost growls in frustration when Kara freezes.

“Uh, yeah Chief?”

“Put down whatever you’re doing back there and come sign in. I need you to work a double. Your damn sister just sent two guys to hospital with her idea of throwing a pass.”

“Be right there!” Kara calls back, letting Cat slither out of her grasp and right herself. Kara smacks her head against the engine, leaving a dent that makes Cat feel strangely wanted. “I’m sorry, when Alex plays games, she gets rough. I keep telling them to stick to cards, but we’re too damn active for our own good.”

“When will you get off?” Cat can hear the whine in her voice, then rethinks her choice of words. “Of work now, I mean.”

“Not til this evening,” Kara sighs. “I’ll email, later?”

“Or you could just call,” Cat points out, grabbing the knot in Kara’s shirt and pulling her in for one more kiss. “I don’t think a phone call can be much more intimate than this.”

“Mmm,” Kara murmurs against her cheek when the kiss reluctantly ends. “I don’t know. I can think of some very _intimate_ things I’d like to hear you saying to me over the phone.”

Any chance of fitting in a little more is disrupted when deafening bells start to ring, high and shrill. 

“Gotta go!” Kara disappears in a blast of speed. By the time Cat rights herself and walks back into the main firestation, Kara is suited and booted and clambering into the cab with her crew. Alien, indeed.

“You shouldn’t be back here,” a tall, dark-skinned man in polo shirt and dress pants tells her. “You’re Danvers’ girl?”

“Cat Grant,” she introduces herself with a hand that’s only slightly trembling. He looks at her a long moment before shaking it.

“Chief Henshaw,” he offers in return. “I take the welfare of my team very seriously, Ms Grant.”

“As do I,” she assures him, watching the fire truck pull out in a cacophony of sirens and honking horns. “In fact, I had an idea to help you get some good publicity before the budget talks. Remind National City who its real heroes are.”

The Chief gives her a skeptical look. “I don’t take meetings on a Sunday.”

“Will you take coffee? The place next door looked promising.”

“I’m beginning to see why Danvers is so useless over you,” he sighs. Cat smiles at the acknowledgment. She’ll leave Kara Danvers all but useless all right. Just as soon as she gets her hands on her again. “You have red paint on your dress, by the way.”

Cat frowns at the splodge of paint on her skirt, and finds she can’t quite bring herself to be too upset about it. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a crisis with the Tokyo office that has Cat in work by the time Kara finishes, and another day is lost to them.

When Monday rolls around, Cat’s dressed in a severe black skirt suit that’s sharp enough to cut with its seams, operating on a sleep deficit that even her two-hour regimen and a gallon of coffee can’t quite touch. It’s why she’s slow to react when the breaking news chyron rolls across her screen for local news. An elementary school on fire, how awful. She blinks once, twice, and then sees the name of the school clearly for the first time.

Carter.

She doesn’t remember calling for her car, collecting her purse, or talking to anyone to make those things happen. All Cat knows is that barely three minutes later she’s in the backseat of her Lincoln, and the young woman driving is getting a hefty bonus for ignoring red lights and speed limits alike.

“Are we there?” Cat demands when the car stops for the first time.

“Roadworks,” her driver - Marta, that’s it - says through gritted teeth. A moment later she’s throwing the car into reverse and pulling off a turn that rally drivers would be impressed by. Cat clutches her seatbelt and silently thanks God for this woman.

“Why are you…” She asks, when they’re in motion again.

“I have a son too, Ms. Grant.” It’s all the explanation any mother needs.

Honestly, Cat is too panicked to do more than glance at the battery of fire trucks already in formation at the school gates. Acrid smoke fills the air, darkening an otherwise sunny National City day, and Cat pushes her way through rubberneckers and tragedy whores to take her place amongst the other frantic parents at the entrance. Police let her through, and for once she barely registers being jostled, touching other people in an ungodly scrum that’s barely contained by the overworked emergency services on scene.

Realizing the situation has the potential to get even worse, she forces her own sick feelings down and hauls herself up on the schoolyard railings. At first her voice fails her, but in the vacuum of authority, people eventually look to her for direction when her strong voice rings out.

“People! They are doing everything they can to rescue our children, but we can’t risk causing further injury out here. Stop! Pushing! Let them work!”

The tangle of bodies settles into smaller groups, and the police officers scurry to create an official waiting area with barriers, keeping the unaffected parties outside where they belong. A young officer helps her down, impressed she lands tidily even in her heels.

 

* * *

 

 

“Thank you ma’am. Your kid’s in there?”

“My son. Carter Grant.” She sees the opportunity to jump the line, to get preferential treatment one more time. Then a fire ladder swings over their head, fresh hoses joining the battle against the flames. “How long have they been in there?”

“Fire department been here since two minutes after the first bell,” he informed her. “Fastest I ever saw them get to a scene. They were just around the corner, first truck.”

“Thank God,” Cat breathed, regretting the long exhale when smoke caught in her throat in the next inhale. “You know we’re holding it together for now, but we need real news out here. Are the kids anywhere near…?”

“All out but one last class. They’re on the other side of the lab that went up. Sent in a whole station’s worth to get them. I should go-”

“Go, help,” Cat encourages. She can taste metal and her eyes are stinging, from smoke or tears she can’t say. A mother from Carter’s class - Olivia’s - recognizes her and clings to Cat’s arm.

“What did he say?”

“They got everyone out but one class,” Cat repeats, watching the little processions of children led by police officers to the waiting clusters of parents, each of whom falls to their knees to greet their rescued child. Cat hates each of them in that moment, repeating over and over. All so far have been younger or older. Carter is just seven, and she knows without having to ask that his class is trapped. She frets about his asthma, about the panic they must all be feeling, about the very hot, very real danger facing her boy, and it takes every last scrap of restraint not to push through the gates and search the building for him herself. Not acting is making her crazy, and the hysteria builds again as reunited families are ushered off to the park across the street, leaving only the desperate parents of the second graders to wait.

Finally, when Cat thinks her patience will snap, a cheer goes up from the people nearest the school buildings. Sure enough, a procession of crying children, holding hands in that crocodile formation used on field trips, is being led to safety by two firefighters, one at the front and the other bringing up the rear.

The one in the rear is carrying Carter, who’s clinging on for dear life. Cat can see his chest heaving, and realizes the signs even from a distance. Not one officer or fellow parent can hold her as she forces her way through, pulling his spare inhaler from her bag.

“Carter!” She screams at him as she runs, and it breaks her heart to see him so terrified. “Here, sweetheart, here,” she urges, pulling him from the suited firefighter and offering up his inhaler even as she’s walking him away from the smoke, all the way to the first unoccupied ambulance she can find.

“Mommy,” he manages between wheezes, and the paramedics take him from her without too much protest. It pains her to let him go so soon, but she sees their equipment that can help him more, the pure oxygen and the comfortable bed, and it’s easier to hand him over.

“He okay?” There’s a tap at her shoulder, and Cat only sees the Danvers at first when she turns. On second glance, she sees it’s the sister. “Kara carried him, but she went back in. There’s a janitor unaccounted for.”

“She…” Cat loses it then, launching herself at the unprepared Alex Danvers, who just about holds her up as she sobs. It’s not comforting the way Kara’s arms might be, but it’s enough to let her get the crushing panic out of her chest once and for all. She didn’t even think to look for Kara, who would of course have recognized the school name from all the conversations they’ve had about Carter in recent weeks. Cat usually guards the details of her private life with the fierceness of a Doberman, but yet again Kara has proven a remarkable exception. Not to mention her being one of the few people considerate to ask Cat about anything other than television, money or power.

“Ms. Grant, we’re ready to head for the hospital,” one of the paramedics alerts her. “You’ll be riding along?”

“Yes,” she wipes sooty tears from her face. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Officer Danvers. And thank your sister for me.”

She doesn’t wait for the acknowledgment, climbing into the ambulance instead, sitting down beside Carter and taking his tiny, precious hand in her own.

 

* * *

 

The smell of coffee wakes her, and Cat jerks awake in the uncomfortable chair by Carter’s bed. No amount of money, no level of insurance, ever seems to make the bedside vigil any kinder on back muscles. Expecting the nurse who’s been so kind for hours, she looks up to see Kara Danvers, freshly scrubbed and in casual clothes for the first time. The leather jacket and jeans, faded t-shirt beneath, look like the kind of comfort Cat could curl up against. She accepts the steaming hot latte with silent thanks.

“I didn’t want to intrude,” Kara explains. “My sister said the paramedics took over, and he seemed fine. But cleanup took a long time. I couldn’t get away.”

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you.” Cat isn’t used to showing gratitude, not so explicitly. But how can she do anything less for this intriguing, beautiful woman, who not only thrills Cat but saved the most precious person in the world to her? “If there is anything - anything - that’s in my power to do, Kara…”

“Could we…” Kara glances to the bed, where Carter is sleeping peacefully, the nasal cannula keeping a steady flow of clean oxygen going to his tiny lungs. “I won’t ask you to leave him, I just wanted to check in. He was pretty scared earlier, so I hope he felt better that I carried him.”

“As soon as he could talk again he was raving about you,” Cat confirms, patting Carter’s foot through the blanket. “But he sleeps like a log. Want to step out into the corridor? I could do with stretching.”

She does exactly that, unfolding from the chair and frowning at the yoga pants and oversized sweatshirt her assistant brought. There are three business ready options hanging on the bathroom door too, but Cat isn’t used to anyone seeing her at anything less than battle ready. Hospital slippers have been provided, and she wears them out into the hallway.

Kara sits on the first of the row of chairs, but Cat’s too wired, too stiff to join her just yet. She leans against the wall instead, sipping the coffee that’s just the right side of scalding.

“He’s really going to be okay?”

“No permanent damage,” Cat confirms. “I’m sorry if I was a handful at the scene. I know you all had jobs to do, but when I saw his little chest struggling to… it was just instinct.”

“I knew your son went to that school,” Kara clasps her long fingers together, bowing her head. “I’m just really sorry that’s how I met him. He was so brave though, even though he was having the toughest time. You should be proud.”

“I am.” It’s an irrefutable fact, as sure as gravity or Lois Lane having appalling taste in shoes. Cat knows already that she’s raising a remarkable young man. “You said clean up took a while? But they got everyone out?”

“Not everyone.” Kara looks up, the skin around her eyes tight like she’s trying not to cry. “That’s why I couldn’t stay with Carter, I had to go back in. It was too dangerous for the others, but you know with my…”

“The janitor,” Cat remembers. “Oh, Kara. Did he…?”

Kara shook her head. “I was too late. I brought him out, so his family could at least...” A sob escapes. “Sorry, it’s just every time I think I’m used to it, I remember I’m not really so tough.”

“You can’t save everyone.” Cat takes a seat beside her, placing a hand between Kara’s shoulder blades over the leather. When Kara doesn’t object, Cat starts to rub soothing circles. “And I think it would be bad for you, doing this job, if you ever got so used to it that it didn’t hurt.”

“I usually go out, afterwards,” Kara explains. “The guys, my sister, we look after each other. I just didn’t want to go to some bar tonight. Is it okay that I came here? I know we’re not… anything. I just wanted to remind myself I did some good in there.”

“Not anything?” Cat is at least a little amused. “I’ve been pursuing you for weeks. We finally got somewhere yesterday. That doesn’t count?”

“No, I mean, this probably isn’t like that for you,” Kara tries to explain, sitting up straight and turning towards Cat. She takes one of Cat’s hands in hers. “I know the cliché, the one-time fantasy and all that. I’m not… unappealing, I guess. But I know that’s a million miles from the kind of person someone like you might be interested in more with. So don’t feel weird, just because I showed up.”

Cat reaches out with her free hand, pushing a strand of hair gently from Kara’s face, tracing the curve of that strong jaw with hesitant fingertips.

“You’re right about being appealing. Very appealing,” Cat begins, and Kara looks away. “But so wrong about everything else. You really think someone with my schedule chases a random subject like that, just for one photoshoot? That I write page-long emails five times a day just to scratch an itch somewhere down the line?”

“Well-”

“I can’t deny my attraction,” Cat continues, because even in these intimate moments she can’t bear interruptions to her flow. “And I don’t think yours is entirely hidden, either. That doesn’t mean that’s all there is to it, Kara. Not least because you’re exactly the kind of person who had to show up here tonight. I don’t know many people like that.”

“Would it be really inappropriate if I-”

Cat kisses her, hand resting on Kara’s cheek. Sweet, short, about as much as Cat could give after a very trying day. The contented sigh from Kara washed over her like a particularly effective spa treatment.

“Not at all,” she answers. “But my head is with him. A part of me always is, no matter what. Right now though, I can’t give you my full attention until I know he’s back to normal. You deserve my full attention, Kara.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get,” Kara admits. “Can I bring you breakfast? Both of you, I mean. I won’t stay, but on my way to work…”

“I’d like that,” Cat tells her, quite sincerely. “No powdered sugar, though. I’ve seen all those donut shots on your Instagram.”

“Guilty as charged,” Kara offers with a smile, standing to leave. She doesn’t let go of Cat’s hand until the last possible second. “Maybe I’ll even find some fruit.”

“That would be good.” Cat watches Kara walk away, and realizes it might be so much more than good.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wait is over... Cat and Kara are all alone, with only the pretext of practicing for a photoshoot to hide behind.
> 
> Here be smut. With a positively sinful @supergaysupercat image waiting for you at the end. It is exceptionally NSFW so be careful with your scrolling

Cat fusses with the backdrop one last time, startled from it only by a knock at the door. She doesn’t hesitate, taking her place on the sofa, reclining with a magazine (her own, naturally) as though she’s been waiting all morning. She barely remembers to slip her reading glasses back on in time.

“Come in.” Perfect, the usual bored drawl. No one at CatCo would bat an eyelid to hear it. The door glides open with more hesitation than Cat can honestly bear, but she grips the magazine a little tighter and forces herself not to look up. Not even as footsteps approach across the wooden floor.

“Hey?” Kara stops just short of the back of the sofa. 

And that’s the end of any pretense for Cat, because when she peers over her reading glasses all she sees is the brave, beautiful woman who’s been on her thoughts far more than anyone has any right to be. In the two weeks of getting Carter discharged, rested at home and back into routine at the new school site with his classmates, Cat has focused almost exclusively on him, save for the few pieces of CatCo every night that wouldn’t thrive without her personal attention.

Now, free of official work duties for the day, and with Carter reluctantly handed off to his father per the custody agreement, Cat doesn’t have one damn thing left to hide behind. Just this excuse of a practice shoot for the magazine spread that Kara has finally agreed to. Whether out of obligation or a desire to see Cat, she can’t be sure. 

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Cat settles on a teasing, cliché greeting, because she doesn’t entirely trust herself to go off-piste just yet. It’s clear Kara has made an effort, judging by the light touch of makeup and the more formal clothing. Black dress pants that actually seem to be tailored, which might be a necessity with thighs that muscled. They certainly cling in all the right places without ever being too tight. The white shirt is crisp and pristine, open at the collar like a bow tie might just have been pulled from it. The black suspenders call to mind Kara’s uniform, and Cat knows enough to know the touch is deliberate.

“I hope this is okay,” Kara looks around. “So when you said practice...?”

“I meant me and my trusty Nikon,” Cat reassures. “Just to get you relaxed, show you the layout we’ll have at the actual studio. CatCo is full of busy, professional people just trying to get on with their work. This will be far more casual.”

“I brought my gear too, just in case.” Kara drops a gray holdall on the floor. There’s some Vuitton in a closet somewhere that would make a more than suitable replacement, but Cat bites her tongue on the offer. This time, this person, she isn’t going to come on too strong. “It’s not as scary as I thought, so far. Your place is insane.”

Cat smiles at that. The woman who runs into burning buildings is scared of a camera and a few lighting umbrellas. “I’ll give you a tour of the rest of my humble abode when we’re done?”

The look Kara gives her, one eyebrow raised, suggests she has an idea that this _humble abode_ has featured in more than one architectural magazine, and a few lifestyle sites besides. 

“This is… well, sort of a rumpus room really.” She gestures to the artfully whitewashed brickwork, and the warehouse-style door that sections off this part of her loft. Three prizewinning artists have begged to be able to work in the space, but Cat values her privacy too much to allow it. “Back when I bought this place I was still on TV now and then, so this was a studio in its own right. It let me work remotely when Carter was very small.”

“It’s uh,” Kara looks around at the draped white sheets, the photography equipment. “Really impressive. I’m glad I’m not coming straight from work, all sooty.”

“Sooty?”

“You know what I mean,” Kara wrings her hands for a moment before coming to some kind of external decision. She takes the remaining distance between them with definitive strides, leaning over Cat with a steadying hand gripping the back of the covered sofa. “So, um, how professional exactly do we have to be right now?” Her gaze darts to Cat’s lips, and a frisson of being _wanted_ trips down Cat’s spine. The intensity of the attention makes her want to melt, but she needs to make this day count. 

“No reason we can’t say a friendly hello,” Cat tells her, and Kara’s lips are on hers. No politeness, no hesitation. Just a thorough, exquisite kiss that suggests it’s been planned and thought about for hours - and possibly days - beforehand. If a soft moan escapes, then Cat is sure it’s nothing to do with her. 

“Hello,” Kara says when they part. “Do we really have a whole day? Everything’s good? Work, Carter…”

“No city burning down?”

“Fair,” Kara concedes. “You want to play photoshoot? Or you want to make out some more? I know what my vote is.”

“You don’t get out of it that easily,” Cat warns, placing her palm flat against Kara’s chest and pushing her gently out of the way. On her feet a second later, still in killer heels that are due to be kicked off before long, Cat makes her way to the far side of the room. She feels Kara’s eyes on her with every step. 

It’s more production value than technical ability, the way Cat fusses with a couple of lamps, the requisite umbrellas, and lastly the camera itself. When she’s as satisfied as she can be, she beckons Kara closer with one finger. She comes across the room as though pulled by a magnet, backing Cat up against the wall draped with more of the thick white sheeting. 

“It’s like a giant bed in here, with all these sheets,” Kara growls, her mouth ghosting over Cat’s cheek, skimming her ear. Her breath is warm and just a little shallow. “I’m beginning to think you’re teasing me.”

“Oh Kara,” Cat practically whimpers. “You’ll know when I’m teasing.” 

“You know what I bet would really relax me?” Kara suggests, nipping at Cat’s earlobe, making her breath hitch. “Picturing you naked while you’re behind that camera. Trouble is, I don’t have much imagination. So you’ll just have to show me for real.”

Then those strong, deft fingers are working at the buttons of Cat’s gauzy blouse, taking mere seconds to have it untucked and pulled halfway down her arms, almost pinning them if she doesn’t resist. For the moment she has no intention of doing any such thing. Kara’s mouth is on the pulse point at the base of her throat then. No more featherlight touches, just the press of her lips and the slickness of her tongue swirling against Cat’s skin. Patience isn’t even close to being a virtue, and Cat clutches at the wall behind her, letting Kara have her way for now.

That way of hers makes short work of pressing those obsession-worthy hands between the wall and Cat’s ass, pulling her closer and squeezing with intent. The zipper on her pencil skirt doesn’t stand a chance, but since it’s all but painted on, Kara yanks it up over Cat’s hips rather than slipping it down. Other times a complaint might be made, an order to slow down and do it properly, but Cat’s already soaked through the whisper of a lace thong that Kara snaps in her haste to pull down bare thighs. 

“Oops?” She kneels for a moment and breathes the apology. Since her mouth is so tantalisingly close to Cat’s hipbone, the crimes against lingerie are instantly forgiven. Kara flutters her kisses then trails with her tongue, delighting in how sensitive Cat is there. A flash of teeth, some searing little nips, and Cat is all but mounting Kara’s shoulders and begging for more.

An idea that she seems to intuit from the roll of Cat’s hips, lifting one leg and draping it over Kara’s shoulder, opening Cat up to her, wet and deliriously ready. 

“I swore I would take my time,” Kara murmurs against the bare skin of Cat’s inner thigh. It’s only a few kisses until those lips meet skin already slick with want. “Savor every second and drive you wild. I’ve been thinking about this all week. Since before really. This is what I wanted to do when you came pressing yourself up against my fire truck.”

Talking doesn’t generally do it for Cat, she much prefers the sound of her own voice. If the sex is decent she’s usually cursing up a storm instead of letting anyone else get a word in edgeways. But these confessions from Kara, with her pouty lips and _please don’t corrupt me ma’am_ face, might as well be fingers stroking Cat’s body. Her nerves are on fire even where Kara isn’t touching yet. Anticipation might just kill Cat if she doesn't get what she wants soon. 

“Then do it,” Cat urges. “It’s only the first round, I don’t mind cutting to the action.” Honestly she’s never had much patience for foreplay. Days like this, where she can linger over her pleasure, have been few and far between. What she gets off on is the confidence of someone who knows what the hell they’re doing. As Kara blows a shockingly cool breath over soaked curls, Cat drops her head back and moans in anticipation.

She barely keeps her balance on her standing leg as Kara stops her brief teasing and swipes her tongue firmly through the center of Cat’s wetness. There’ll be time later to find out if Kara likes to be ordered, directed to lick or suck, if she gets turned on by Cat saying _pussy_ or _cunt_ through gritted teeth as she commands, but right now there’s just that firm, dedicated tongue lighting up every spot that it caresses.

And it is a caress at first. Light but targeted, charting the territory line by crinkled line, dipping and swirling with more than a little finesse. Someone’s showing off. Cat keens when Kara finally pays more direct attention to her clit, a flickering pressure that has Cat’s back arching. She makes to grab for Kara’s hair, but the sleeves of her blouse are restrictive. Undeterred, Cat wriggles her right arm free and runs her fingers through those honey blonde tresses, scraping short nails across Kara’s scalp until she’s humming in pleasure against Cat.

It’s easier to urge Kara on like this, to get a little traction with each shudder, to chase that relentless tongue every time she threatens to pull away or slow down.

“God, please,” Cat gasps as her orgasm threatens once more. This time Kara doesn’t let it subside, she flattens her tongue and resorts to broad, forceful strokes that have Cat almost sobbing as moan after moan of pleasure escapes her. She’s no stranger to being vocal, but hell if it isn’t nice to be making noise because she can’t help it rather than to convince. 

“Ka-ra!” She all but shrieks as she comes and _fuck_ that’s so, so good. Kara closes her mouth around Cat’s pulsing clit and sucks her gently through a second orgasm. Which is when her leg does give out on her, but she barely slides an inch before those strong arms are holding her up. A moment later they’re gathering her up, carrying her bridal style back towards the couch. Kara pauses long enough to kiss her, leisurely about letting Cat taste herself on Kara’s mouth.

“So,” Kara mutters against her lips when a kiss finally breaks for a moment. “As starters go…”

“Not bad,” Cat undersells it. “But don’t think you’re dragging me back to the couch just yet, stud. I’ve got plans for you.”

“Plans like what?”

“Click, click,” Cat gestures to the camera, wriggling out of Kara’s grip and back to standing on her bare feet. When she ditched her shoes she isn’t quite sure. One probably fell as her heel was scraping lightly against Kara’s back as she knelt. Cat’s a mess, blouse dangling from one wrist, skirt rucked up around her waist, underwear long gone. Only her bra is still in place, though given that it’s Coco de Mer’s sheer lace triangles set that she picked out, it’s really more a suggestion than actual lingerie. Something that hasn’t escaped Kara’s hungry, roving gaze. “You wanted me naked behind the camera? Guess you get your wish. Now get against that wall, or I’ll back you up there myself.”

Kara raises an eyebrow. “That’s a little forceful.”

“Have I ever given the impression I’m anything else?”

“No,” Kara admits, shoving her hands in the pockets of her tailored pants. Her shirt collar is askew, a little crumpled at the shoulder from Cat’s leg. “But I guess I assumed... people are generally only interested in, you know. The strength, the whole muscle thing. I’m supposed to take charge, pin you down, that kind of thing?”

“Which is perfectly charming,” Cat agrees. “I particularly enjoyed that a moment ago, against the wall. Still, let’s not limit ourselves, darling.”

“Darling?”

Cat pouts just a little. She’s not careless with her terms of endearment, but she can see where Kara might think it some celebrity affectation. “Yes, darling. And I hope you understand that I intend to give as good as I get. Now, as Madonna would have it, strike a pose.”

There’s a glint of excitement in Kara’s eye that makes Cat want to jump her there and then, but she’s put a lot of work into this day progressing perfectly. She really does want Kara to be relaxed for the actual shoot, and these methods of calming her won’t be available in front of a crowd. Not unless Cat decides to really give the Trib a shot in the arm with publicity she’ll never live down.

Of course Kara is awkward and rigid at first, sulking in front of the lens as Cat fires off some test shots. Her lighting setup needs some work, but Kara’s so damn photogenic that she could make a cover girl image with only a desk lamp and a burlap sack to work with.

“Better,” Cat encourages as Kara roams the space a little, leaning against the wall when she finds a spot she likes. There’s a real insouciance in the look she shoots at Cat then, finally getting into the spirit of it. The fear is gone, and the opportunity to have some fun is presenting itself. Tugging at the backdrop, Kara wraps it around herself like some kind of ridiculous toga. Cat may not be James Olsen, but she has the presence of mind to capture a burst of Kara’s laugh that are destined for print and Cat’s private wall space. 

The sheets aren’t particularly well-secured, so a few tugs as Kara twirls in the fabric and one wall is uncovered, artfully restored brick from another building entirely. Cat likes things how she likes them, and this space is modeled on her last apartment in Metropolis, her launching pad for all things CatCo.

“Oh wow,” Kara is instantly drawn to the ropes and pulleys, rigging gear left over from the studio requirements. Maybe it’s overspill from the day job, maybe she’s just got a thing for ropes, but Cat in her bra-and-nothing-else knows exactly what she wants as soon as Kara is running coarse rope through her hands. 

“It pulls out,” Cat explains, abandoning her camera back on the tripod and stepping up to show off the mechanism. She has to think about a few of them, but the tracks click into place and she’s able to have ropes and cables hanging from their designated locations on the ceiling. “Any good with knots?”

“You’re thinking of sailors,” Kara sasses back, but she’s already got the rope in her hands again, clearly taken with it. “What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing too elaborate,” Cat muses. “I have silk ropes in the bedroom if we want to get into that. But it occurs to me that all these hanging ropes could be combined, if we get creative. Make something like a swing. The leverage that gives could be… interesting.”

Kara catches on quick, pulling four ropes closer together and with a little trial and error there’s a sturdy criss-crossing seat hanging about waist-high on Cat. 

“Oh very good,” Cat practically purrs. “It evens the playing field just a little. Time for me to show you how muscles are really flexed, wouldn’t you say?”

“You want me to… you’re going to…” Kara is impressed, it’s easy to tell. “Rao, yes.”

“It’s safer, too,” Cat points out. “With your powers and all. In case your knots aren’t all that great.”

Kara tugs on the rope. “Perfectly secure.”

“Strip for me,” Cat commands, getting in close and running her knuckles over Kara’s cheek. “If I give you the memory card when we’re done, I’d like to take some shots of that, too?”

“I don’t know…” For the first time, Kara looks genuinely unsure. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, of course I do. I just… I’ve never really seen myself like that.”

“Would you like to?”

“...yes?”

“You don’t have to,” Cat reminds her. “I’m going to enjoy myself just as much either way. You’re exquisite, Kara. I’d like to show you how much.”

“Well, if you’re going to say stuff like that,” Kara grumbles, cheeks flushing pink again. “Go on then, bring your camera over. But you’d better make me look good.”

“How could I not?” Cat leaves the tripod in place, ready to freehand. For a long moment, Kara can’t decide what to do with herself, but as Cat opens her mouth to suggest, Kara raises her hands and runs them through her hair. The shutter is firing before Cat’s aware of pushing the button. As Kara’s head drops back, there’s a Grecian column captured in the lines of her neck. Her hands returning to unbutton her starched shirt are magicians preparing a reveal. 

There’s a slight fumbling as she untucks it, pulls it from her body in a careful way that leaves the black suspenders in place. A moment later they’re strips of tension over bare, pert breasts. The shirt is on the floor, lost in the white drapes that cover most of the room. 

“Look at me,” Cat urges as Kara reaches for the button on her pants. The heavy-lidded glance in response is going to be populating Cat’s dreams for much longer than any photograph could do justice. “Slowly,” she mutters, and Kara takes her sweet time in edging the pants down over her shapely hips. It turns out she skipped panties as well as a bra, and Cat’s wondering why she didn’t ravage her the very second she arrived.

“I like it,” Kara breathes, barely audible. She clears her throat and stretches, showing off defined muscles that Cat can’t quite get enough of. “The way you look at me. Makes me want to show off for you.”

“Then turn,” Cat instructs, and Kara does it gradually, until she’s looking back at Cat over that sculpted shoulder, chin still faintly glistening with the remnant of Cat’s orgasms, hair mussed from the way Cat was pulling on it. Pants and suspenders kicked aside, Kara is finally, gloriously naked. 

She tugs on the swing she’s constructed, one last glance to the fixings to make sure it's secure. “I’ve always wanted to try this,” she confesses, leaning on the ropes for a moment and letting them take her weight. I can, you know…”

“Float?”

Kara nods. “But there’s something about being held. About being sort of…”

“Open and ready for me?” Cat sets the camera on the floor. “Because honestly Kara? I think I’m done with the hands off approach. The trouble with photos is that you’re seeing, not experiencing.”

“Then get over here,” Kara reaches for Cat’s hand, a simple intimacy, and draws her close. When they kiss this time, open-mouthed and leisurely about it, Cat feels something deeper behind the sheer lust of it all. She wants to protect this unbreakable woman, and be protected by her in turn. Memorize every line and muscle and full-hearted smile, and sink into the luxury of being thoroughly ravaged by her. Kara can clearly take initiative, but Cat knows someone ready to surrender when she sees it.

“It’s presumptuous,” Cat sighs, grasping the rope just above where Kara’s holding it. “But I made a few purchases in anticipation. I know you expected me to have you take the lead, and you can again later. But right now I want nothing more than to tangle you up in these ropes and fuck you til you scream.”

“You’ll strap up?” Kara realizes with a happy little groan. “You really are my walking fantasy, Cat Grant.”

“I had a feeling you’d like that. Now chop, chop. Let’s see if your handiwork will hold you. Suspended like that, you’re handing all the control over to me. Can you handle that?”

“Can you?”

Cat smirks, and turns towards the bag she prepared for something like this purpose. The leather straps are buttery soft between her fingers, and if she’s inelegant in pulling them up her legs, Kara’s too polite to say. By way of reply, she hoists herself into the improvised swing, arms flexing and legs spreading instinctively. Cat’s mouth goes dry at the sight. There’s a gymnast’s grace in the movements, and a hint of _come and get it_ that she feels like a magnet’s pull.

The swirling glass design of the brand new dildo doesn’t move Cat particularly, but Kara gives an enthusiastic nod. It’s not the most elegant process, but soon it’s snugly in place and Kara urges Cat on with an experimental nudge of the ropes. There’s a slight creak from the ropes that makes Cat look up sharply, but Kara laughs gently.

“I can’t bruise, remember? So get over here.”

“Oh you don’t just click your fingers and have me come running,” Cat warns. A quick squeeze of lube and she’s prepared. Judging by the way Kara’s glistening under the lights, they won’t need much in the way of additional help. 

Cat takes her time, swaggering just a little and finally ditching her flimsy excuse for a bra. It’s enough to make Kara bite down on her bottom lip, and Cat takes her place between those parted thighs. Oh, the abs up close are still a work of art, crunched effortlessly as Kara leans up into another fervent kiss. Having been encumbered by the camera before, Cat lets her hands roam freely. She charts the hitches in Kara’s breathing, the happy sighs. By the time she reaches those irritatingly pert breasts and starts to knead, Kara’s soft moans have Cat’s hips twitching with the need to _take her_.

With sheer determination, Cat teases for as long as she can hold out. If she’s this worked up again, then Kara must be ready to break things, but there’s no rush in the way she traps the dildo between them, lavishing attention on Kara’s body with her mouth first. Nipples that harden under the touch of her tongue, and the way Kara shudders her moan when Cat sucks lightly, it feels like something to be dragged out all day. 

Kara is grinding against her now, using the ropes to get enough leverage. When her clit presses against the glass she gives such a delicious hiss of pleasure that Cat’s resolve weakens instantly. It’s the work of seconds to be lined up, pressing forward, to be filling Kara in short, gradual strokes that go slightly deeper each time. For her part, Kara almost hyperventilates when Cat bottoms out, but some soft kisses and the firm, distracting twist of her fingers at Kara’s breasts bring her back under control.

“Please,” Kara begs. “Oh fuck, _please_.”

With her thumb slipped between them, tight circular pressure on Kara’s clit, Cat picks up the pace of her thrusting. The extra momentum from the swing makes her feel powerful, as supercharged as Kara who can take and take and still gasp for more, every word from those pouty lips driving Cat on until Kara’s shivering, desperately on the brink. It’s then that Cat realizes she’s waiting, without having to be instructed. 

“You have to… can I… Cat, please?”

She wants to be told that Cat is in charge of everything right now, all the way down to when and how Kara comes. The thought alone has Cat gripping the ropes, making those last few strokes really count as she chants under her breath to _come come come for me_. 

And Kara does. Once with a cry that sounds like a piece of the ceiling might just have broken, and when Cat pauses before building up the pace again, the second time comes with a gush that soaks both their thighs. Exhausted for a moment, Cat falls forward over Kara, skin against skin as they rock gently back and forth.

“Wow,” Kara slaps her own face gently, laughing at the sound. “That was intense.”

“You always hit yourself after sex?”

“I was having an out of body experience by the end there. Just checking I’m still me.”

“You’re a little odd, aren’t you?” Cat accuses, pressing a kiss to the slope of Kara’s breast, before pushing herself back to standing, and slipping free of Kara’s body altogether. 

“A little,” Kara admits. “But you’re the one having sex with me, so what does that make you?”

“Thoroughly satisfied,” Cat answers, not missing a beat. Her lower back won’t thank her for this tomorrow, but it will be worth every second of sitting gingerly. And hell, in for a penny…

“I’m a little thirsty,” Kara slips from the ropes and comes to gather Cat in a tight embrace. Somewhere in there, Cat has the presence of mind to slip the leather harness from her body. 

“Let’s go get a drink then,” Cat offers. “I did promise you a tour.”

“A naked tour?” Kara smiles bright enough to power a mid-sized city. “Even better.”

“Well we’re the only people here,” Cat points out. “This way, come on.”

It takes far longer than it should to reach a room only five doors away. Every detail Cat tosses out about her penthouse earns her a kiss, being pressed against a doorframe, or hoisted up onto a piece of furniture so Kara can keep kissing in different locations. By the time they reach the polished chrome and cool surfaces of the kitchen, Cat’s raring to go again.

“Drink, first,” she admonishes when Kara makes another move. “I need you hydrated, supergirl.”

“In a minute,” Kara promises, humming as she wraps her arms around Cat from behind. A series of soft nips along her shoulder and Cat is leaning back against her. “Was it worth the wait?”

“Well, it was a good start,” Cat agrees. “Try not to be that naked at the actual shoot though. Oh, you meant the sex?”

“That too,” Kara confirms, laughing softly. “Do I really still have to have my picture taken?”

“Well, grab some juice and we’ll go take a look at your trial run, hmm? I have a projector in there that should really show them off. Then when you see how… mmm .... you look, you’ll stop trying to wriggle out of it.”

“We’ll see,” Kara sighs, fetching two bottles from the fridge as though she’s been coming round for months already. “Lead the way. For now.”

“Kara?” Cat hesitates, feeling faintly self-conscious for the first time all day. “I’m really glad I stopped to report on Max Lord’s little bonfire.”

“Me too,” Kara comes around the kitchen island, completely at ease. She hands Cat a drink, smiling the whole time. “But don’t think this means you get past the tape in the future.”

“Not even if I said I wanted to do this more often? A lot more?”

“Even then.” Kara held firm. “That sound okay to you?”

“More than okay,” Cat promises, letting herself get caught up in one more searing kiss. “Let’s go check the proofs. And if they’re as hot as I suspect, I absolutely insist on going down on you while we flip through.”

“Then how could I refuse?”

This time Kara bodily lifts Cat, tossing her over her shoulder as Cat gives an undignified squeal. Cat finds herself laughing all the way back to the studio, and Kara giggles right along with her as she jogs them along the hallway. 

“Are you happy?” Kara asks, setting Cat down on the covered sofa. 

“Yes,” Cat confesses. “I really think I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


End file.
